


This is a story of loaded glances

by jublelion



Category: Social Network (2010)
Genre: Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-23
Updated: 2013-09-23
Packaged: 2017-12-27 11:35:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/978394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jublelion/pseuds/jublelion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I think it's a love story"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been hovering in the fandom since the movie came out, but have never written fic before, until I was watching the Social Network for the 30 billionth time three weeks ago. It isn't beta'd, although I'd love a beta! Comment if you want to be one! Title from the Chris Pureka song, "Burning Bridges".
> 
> Also, the premise here is that Mark and Wardo were in a relationship, and these are the in between scenes.

Mark first meets Eduardo in the Starbucks on Harvard Yard, his freshman year. It’s Wednesday, and all the tables, and cushions, and poufs are full, except his, which has one chair occupied by his backpack. Mark is sort of wired in, fixing the code on the music sharing app, a big cup of coffee (three sugars, no cream) near his left elbow. It’s really full, and kind of loud, but Mark was there because Chris had someone over, Dustin was flirting poorly with some girl in his Abstract Algebra class, and Mark was hoping that he might make friends with someone he didn’t live with. Just in case Chris and Dustin are likewise engaged for the next four years.

He’s about to give it up for a bad time, and shut down his computer, when someone tall in a dark suit (and why is he wearing a suit? It’s August for God’s sake!) asks, “Is this seat taken? Only, everywhere else is full, and no one has sat down for 10 minutes, which is a little long for someone in the bathroom.” Mark is startled by how incredibly good looking this boy is. He’s not usually swayed by looks, but Mark might have to make an exception for this one. He realizes he’s staring, shakes his head, and stutters out “ye-yeah, go on,” moving his backpack to the floor, where it lands with a thunk. The boy slides coolly into the other chair, and sets his coffee down gently in front of him.

“I’m Eduardo,” he says, extending his hand to Mark.

“Mark.”

Eduardo nods, and settles into his reading. The Concept of Frontogenesis and its Application to Winter Weather Forecasting, whatever that meant.

“What are you reading?” Mark asked, curious what Frontogenesis meant, and why this gorgeous boy was reading it.

“Oh,” Eduardo said, embarrassed, “it’s about how temperature and wind react to strengthen atmospheric fronts, and then how you can use algorithms to predict how the weather is going to change from year to year.” Clearly, Mark has asked about something Eduardo is truly passionate about, and lets him jabber for five minutes about wind pressure, and cold fronts, and the directionality of the earth, and mass continuity towards divergence, or something like that… Truth be told, Mark stops fully listening, but he can tell Eduardo actually cares about this stuff. 

Which is awesome. It’s so rare, for Mark to find someone who genuinely cares about these kinds of obscure details. He realizes this might be the thing Eduardo is most passionate about. 

A sudden traitorous thought rushes in: I want him to think about me like that. He tunes back in to hear “so hopefully I can use this in my investing internship this summer.” Eduardo looks up at Mark, expectantly, so Mark tells Eduardo about his app, about coding, and 8-bit and paired disparity code, and the time he turned down Microsoft. All he wants, at this moment, here, in the Starbucks lounge, is to impress this impossibly beautiful boy with floppy brown hair.

Eduardo smiles at him, huge, and like Mark is the only one there. “You know I didn’t understand a word you just said, right?”

Mark blushes, and his face falls. “Right,” he says. Eduardo shakes his head, and reaches out an arm. “No, that’s- that’s not what I meant. I mean, it was, but- Don’t take it personally. Look, I gotta run,” he says, looking at his watch, “but there’s this AEPi party this weekend, Caribbean Night, and maybe you could come? Here’s my number. Text me.” He said, writing it on a clean napkin.

***

And that’s how Mark and Eduardo end up drunk on a Friday night, sprawled across the couch in Kirkland, watching Firefly.

“This is sooo good, Mark. Mark, it’s just so great, with the characters, and ‘my pretty floral bonnet’ and the weird girl, with the boots. Lake, Pond, River. River. S’just so great. Thank you.” Eduardo was slurring, his one arm squashed between his body and the back of the couch, one leg on the floor, and one tucked under Mark, in a similar state of sprawl. Mark pulled himself up out of the couch. “Hey man, want another beer?”

Eduardo nodded, and accepted the cold bottle gratefully from Mark’s hand, their fingers brushing. Mark didn’t let go, and their eyes caught. They held that contact for just a pulse too long, and Eduardo shook his head to break the contact. “Thanks man.”

He sat up, putting both feet on the floor, his elbows resting on his knees. “Want to watch another?” he asked.

“No, I’m beat. Let’s just be,” says Mark, who has never once in his life admitted to wanting to “just be.” Eduardo nods. “Why are you a business major? You love weather, and your algorithms are beautiful. Why aren’t you in Math, or Physics?”

Eduardo blushes, and looks at his knees, before looking at Mark with this defiant look, like he’s said this ten thousand times in his head, but never out loud. “I’m in business for my father. He wants me to take over the family company. He says that a business degree is the best thing for actually owning one. Physics doesn’t teach actual skills, he says.” Eduardo takes a deep breath, a swig of beer, and locks eyes with Mark. “I am not bad at business, Mark. I like the classes I take, and the professors, and it keeps my father off my back.” He takes another swig, and Mark can’t help but watch his throat as he swallows it down. Mark nodded, sitting down next to him. The couch was small, and their arms brushed. Eduardo looked up from his nearly empty bottle to Mark’s eyes.

Fuck it, he thought, and leaned over to press his lips against Eduardo’s. Eduardo pressed in, tilting his head to the side, kissing Mark back. He put his beer down, and tangled both hands into Mark’s curls. Eduardo’s lips opened, and Mark tickled his lips with his tongue, and Eduardo responded.

Mark’s hands moved to Eduardo’s throat, unbuttoning his shirt, his fingers brushing Eduardo’s sharp collarbone, touching his chest, the surprising smoothness of his chest, the toned bronze of his well muscled abs. Mark pushed the shirt off Eduardo’s shoulder’s, as Eduardo began to lift the edge of Mark’s shirt. They stopped kissing, just for a moment to tug off their shirts, before Eduardo began to pull off his belt, and unzip his trousers. Mark watched, as Eduardo’s lean hips were exposed, Eduardo’s pants pooled around his feet. He stared at Eduardo’s hard on as it pressed against his black cotton briefs.

“Like what you see, Zuckerberg?” asks Eduardo, teasingly. Mark breathes out, heavily, and leans in to kiss Eduardo’s neck. “Yes,” he says, as he pulls Eduardo down.

***

Mark wakes up with Eduardo curled up against his chest, one leg and his left arm sprawled across Mark’s body. There’s tiny patch of purply-red on Eduardo’s shoulder. Mark touches it with his free hand, and wonders at it. He put that there.

“Mmmmm” Eduardo hums into Mark’s armpit. Mark wonders if he feels as shaken out as he does, loose, and sweetly slow, and like his skin is glowing. Like, actually glowing. There is no where they are not touching.

“So,” Mark begins, because Mark does not know how to do this thing, this, I just met an awesomely attractive individual, got drunk, and then had hot mansex with that supremely hot individual, thing. Doesn’t know how to ask about it. “That was, I mean, that was…” he pauses, hoping Eduardo will supply the necessary adjective for the fantastic explosive jolly goodness of it all.

“Great,” Eduardo supplies, catching Mark’s eyes and smiling. He disentangles himself from Mark, and sits up, pulling his knees to his chest and stretching his arms, so that the sheet falls down, and the fantastic length of his torso is splayed out for Mark, who can’t help but feel shy. How can this demigod, with those arms, and that chest, and that hair like Mark, who is thin, and pasty, and probably smells kind of bad? What on earth did Mark do in his past life to deserve this?

Eduardo yawns, and gets up, grabbing his boxer briefs and trousers off the chair where he put them last night. “We should do that again some time,” he says, zipping his trousers and pulling on his shirt. Mark nods, unable to think of a single appropriate response, other than ughlfhalgha, which is probably not the appropriate one. Eduardo smiles, one of his immense, beautiful smiles that shines a light into Mark’s brain, and turns it off entirely. He leans down, fingers still buttoning his shirt, and kisses Mark’s lips. Eduardo’s are thin, but soft, and smooth, and Mark kisses him back.

“See you later, then!” says Eduardo, and leaves.

***

And that’s how it goes. They hang out, they get drunk, and then they have sex. They don’t really talk about what they’re doing, and no one really knows but Chris and Dustin, but only because they walked in on Mark and Eduardo in varying states of undress on the couch. Dustin squawked and prattled about the Couch as a Safe No Weird Sex Zone, until Chris said that the coffee table was worse, it splintered something awful, and Dustin blushed, and they settled that no one should be having sex in the common room.

Somewhere along the way, they stop being drunk, and sometime around Thanksgiving they stop pretending to be drunk, and then Mark begins to call him Wardo, learns what his eyes looks like just before he comes, what kind of liquor he likes, and learns that he really likes providing for Mark.

Wardo kisses him like this is how he gets air, and sucks him off regularly with those beautiful red lips, and it’s wonton and hot. Wardo cries out Mark’s name as he comes, hot semen slick and sticky between their bodies. He leaves bruises on Marks hips where his hands clutch them, and fucks the curls into and out of Marks hair, while his own is always perfect. 

Wardo brings him things, coffee, hot dogs, red bull when he runs out on long coding binges. He makes Mark eat and shower and sleep, and some nights wrestles Mark out of his computer and into bed and holds him there, lithe body pressed against Mark’s and they just sleep. They don’t always have sex, but they usually fall asleep together, and spend more time together than anyone else. In March, Mark tells Wardo that he loves him, and Wardo says it back, and they spend the whole weekend in bed. Everything is perfect.

*** 

They are cuddling, Eduardo as big spoon, naked arm curled around Mark’s waist in Wardo’s bed one morning in April, when Wardo gets a call from his father.

Mark doesn’t understand the tense, quick Portuguese being shouted through Wardo’s phone, but he hears the sudden intake of breath, the words that sound like denial, reproach, acquiescence. He hears shouting through the phone. Angry adult Portuguese. He thinks he hears his name, “Mark” in the things that Wardo is saying, but every time, it’s only followed by yelling, “bicha” “nao e meu filho e homosexxuel” so Mark figures it’s probably about him, about them, and he knows that now everything will be different.

“Por favor pare de gritar comigo. Tudo bem, pai, tudo bem. Vou acabar com ele. Eu te ligo mais tarde.” Wardo hangs up the phone. His face has fallen, and he looks so upset, Mark stands up to go to him, losing his sheet in the process. He tries to hug Eduardo, who is just as naked, but Eduardo says “No!” and shudders away.

“What’s wrong? What did your dad say to you?” Mark asks, furious.

“What the hell do you think?” Wardo yells. “He found out about us, Mark. He heard we were fucking, and he said ‘no son of mine’. Do you want me to tell you what he said about you? About me? Fuck you, Mark. Fuck you.”

“Hey! This is not my fault. I love you, you idiot, and I think your father is fucking stupid.” Mark shouts back, breathing hard. He grabs his jeans and pulls them on, yanks on his sweatshirt, flipflops (whatever, it’s April).

He turns back to look at Eduardo, who is sitting down, head in his hands and rocking back and forth. He can’t leave now. Mark goes to him, and presses a hand to Eduardo’s shoulder. Wardo leans his cheek against it and keeps rocking.

“Wardo, I’m here for you. I love you.”

Inhaling shakily, Eduardo nods. “I love you too, Mark. I just don’t know what to do.”

***

Mark runs home, and when he gets there, three text from Wardo is sitting on his phone, blinking.

09:27 AM (305): sorry about this morning. I was a little freaked out. J

09:29 AM (305): Oh G-d, Mark, I don’t know what to do.

09:32 AM (305): can I come over after Macro? Around 4?

Mark closes his eyes, and chants calm, calm, calm in his mind. He texts back an “okay” to Wardo. And sits down to think.

***

At four, Eduardo comes into their room at Kirkland. He looks at Mark, and Mark looks at him, and can’t breathe for a minute, because what if this is it?

“sit, Wardo,” he says, and makes room on the couch. Wardo sits down, his long legs too long to fit comfortably on the couch.

“Mark, I—I don’t want to do this, but… my father knows. He knows, and he’s pissed. He thinks it will get out, and it will ruin the company, or it will ruin my reputation, and no one will deal with the company. Mark, it’s—it’s not you, it’s my father, and the company, and what my family needs from me. Do you understand? I love you, and I want you, and I want to be with you, but I can’t. I just, I can’t be with you anymore. Do you understand?” without waiting for a response, Eduardo stands up, straightens his coat, and moves towards the door. “I love you, Mark,” and he leaves.

***

Mark is heartbroken, his stomach aches, and his fingers feel numb. That summer without Wardo, where they don’t talk, don’t write, don’t see each other, is miserable. He mopes around the house all day, and his sisters tease him, but he can’t help it. Finally he tells his mother, who nods, and said she knew, which Mark thinks is stupid, and tells him it will be okay, which of course it won’t. 

Mark dives into programming, designs a game where the bad guy is a Brazillian import/export kingpin who has kidnapped the player’s best friend, rereads The Illiad in the original Greek, and destroys a tree with his fencing sword. Mark designs programs, and websites, and sketches out a site where you can keep in touch with friends far away, but throws it out when the algorithms are wrong. Wardo would know how to make it work, but he’s not here, and he can’t work with Mark anymore. Mark mopes.

One day, about 3 weeks before Harvard starts up again, he receives a letter from Eduardo. He cuts it open, and reads the lines. Wardo is sorry, he’s having a great time, he made $300,000 dollars on the weather, he is sorry, he can’t wait to leave Miami. At the bottom of the page, in tiny, tight letters, Wardo has written, “I love you”.

The next week, another letter comes, Wardo again. This time, there is no discussion of the weather, no talk of Miami. Wardo writes about them. Wardo explains what his father has said, about how he’s inheriting the family business, about grandchildren, family and tradition. He writes like he doesn’t think Mark understands why. Wardo writes that he loves him, but he can’t choose between Mark and family. So he won’t, Wardo writes. He writes, in wide, open letters that he won’t choose, but that they can’t be like they were, attached, inseparable, together. He writes that they can be together in secret. Wardo tells Mark to go out with someone else, a girl, and he would do the same. Throw them off the scent, the bastards that were watching him for his father. At the bottom, he writes, “I know you understand. I love you.”

Mark crumples the letter and throws it away, but that night goes to the bin and fishes it out. He flattens it, and presses it between his CS books. Go out with a girl, any girl, Wardo says. We can still be together, Wardo says, in secret. Nothing will change, Mark. But it will, he thinks. Everything has already changed, because Mark would give everything up for Wardo, but Wardo won’t fight for Mark.

***

The first few days back at school are difficult. He wants to go to Wardo’s and curl up in his bed, and wake up to hot oatmeal and good coffee. He wants Wardo to stay over after they’ve drunk too much, and he wants to have sex with Wardo so much it’s almost painful. He embarrasses Wardo one night when he shows up stoned in his dorm, and presses Wardo against the bookcase, and sucks him off. Wardo tells him no, not until Mark has a girlfriend. Wardo’s dating some Korean girl, Stacy something. Chin, Kim, something like that. She’s a bitch. Mark’s never met her, but she’s dating his Wardo, kissing Wardo, and so she must be a bitch. She has to be, or Mark might die.

Halfway through September, he meets a pretty girl at an AEPi BU/Harvard party with brown hair, and big eyes. She is wearing black, and her eyes look like Wardo’s. Mark tells himself he can do this, can go out with someone else. Erica doesn’t recoil when he asks her out, just looks him up and down and nods. On dates, they go to the movies, talk about the characters, and the cinematography, and artistic choices, and then argue about history, Turing and computer games. They have a beer and go back to hers. 

Mark kisses her, and she’s a little taller than him, so it’s perfect, and he touches her breasts, which are smaller than they look, but that isn’t a bad thing, except that she is soft, soft in all those wonderful places Wardo is hard, and all he wants is Wardo Wardo Wardo. He keeps comparing them, how they taste, what their faces look like when they come, and Erica is losing. Her noises are soft, girl noises, sighs and high intakes of breath, where Wardo moaned and shouted his name, his lips open, eyes rolled backwards. 

Erica’s face is different, her eyes shut, she bites her lip, she doesn’t flush all down her chest like Wardo, he can’t really tell when she’s finished. She sucks him off like Wardo did, though, she moves her tongue right, and when he comes he moans deep. They go out for a month and a half before he says they can have sex, because he’s never done this before. He leaves out the whole “with a girl” part.

He gets it up, and it’s fine, it’s more than fine, it’s great, but then he shouts “Wardo!” as he comes. That’s the real reason they broke up. It wasn’t final clubs, or fighting, or the stupid argument in the bar, although that helped. It was because he couldn’t come without shouting Wardo’s stupid name, and she got sick of it after the third time.

He gets drunk and creates FaceMash when Erica dumps him, because how else to prove he’s straight than invent a website where you compare girls? He’s so upset that he had to sleep with a girl, that he can’t just be with Wardo, that he has to play this stupid game. He gets stuck with FaceMash, it won’t come out right, so he texts Eduardo for the first time since May. Come over. I need you.

He’s honestly surprised when Eduardo walks in, smooth, and bold, and sexier than even Mark remembers. Eduardo greets everyone, but looks concerned, and he comes over to Mark like he’s going to hug him. It flips his stomach a little when he Wardo says he was reading Mark’s blog at 2 in the morning. His heart races to hear Wardo say that he is there for Mark, but he covers admirably. He needs the algorithm to prove… to prove nothing. 

Wardo likes it when Mark is smart. Mark wants Wardo, but cant. Not yet. He has to hurt him. Make him ask for it. He tells Wardo that he needs him, and when he hears “I’m here for you” his heart gives a leap, but he squelches that hope with “No, I need the algorithm.” He can hear Dustin behind him bury his hands in frustration, but ignores it. Or tries to, past the little voice in his head telling him that he’s an idiot, as Eduardo’s face falls.

Wardo recovers quickly, dubiously, and provides the algorithm, with the vague knowledge that if he helps Mark, then it will go better for all of them. Wardo is clearly pissed at the website, because it compares girls, and Mark calls one of them hot. Mark is secretly pleased, and keeps giving him beer. By the time he crashes the servers, Mark and Wardo are drunk, although not as drunk as they are acting, and Wardo takes him home to his tiny room. That night they fuck, because they are free, because it isn’t cheating, because Mark needs Wardo and Wardo is always there for Mark.

Mark clings to Wardo as their bodies rock back and forth, his legs wrapped around Wardo’s waist. He strains his neck, and kisses up Wardo’s neck, as he presses his hands against Mark’s hips, and reaches between them to jack Mark off. It’s hot, so hot, and they come together, loudly, moaning into each other’s necks. They gasp heavily, and Wardo rolls off him, splaying out like he’s run a marathon. 

“God, I missed you,” he breathes, rolling over and pulling Mark into a spoon. He runs his hands over Mark’s shoulders, down his neck and back, and over his thigh. “You’re so beautiful, Mark. You’re so beautiful.” Wardo kisses his ear, the hollow between his neck and his skull, where his shoulder joins his neck.

Mark snuggles into the warm nook created by the curves of Wardo’s body, feels his chest beating against his back, and knows that this is where he wants to be forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wardo's Portuguese to his father: "Please stop yelling at me. All right, Dad, that's fine. I'll end it. I'll call you later."
> 
> I did that using Google translate, so if you speak Portuguese, and there's a problem, let me know, and I'll fix it. 
> 
> Also, I'm in search for a beta. Can you help?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I think it's a love story." Mark and Eduardo had a casual sex relationship/were kind of dating while Mark was at Harvard. Wardo's father is an asshole and NOT PLEASED that Wardo is having hot sexy times with a man. He insists they break up and Wardo at least TRY with a woman. Mark is not pleased, because he loves Wardo, but he'll try. This fic imagines what wasn't said, the scenes that didn't make it into the story.

The day of the review board hearing, Eduardo walks with him, like old times, like nothing has changed. “I’ll be right here, Mark” he says, even though it is cold in the October wind, and Wardo’s Miami blood is only protected by an expanse of thin skin and Armani wool coat. Still, he sits and puts on some music on. After the hearing, Mark comes out of the building muttering under his breath about probation. He doesn’t understand it. He apologized to everyone, the girls, the dorms, the tech board, and for some sarcasm and talk-back, he gets six months probation. Bastards.

He looks up, surprised to see Eduardo there. Still. Not that he minds, but isn’t it a little suspicious? The way he is sitting there, looking too big for the crouch he’s in. Wardo hops up the second he sees Mark, all concern, and hands around the shoulders. Mark babbles. What can he do, when he can feel Eduardo looking at him like he wants to kiss him? Eduardo shrugs, and sighs at academic probation, makes a half hearted attempt to shame him, “make an example.”

Mark thinks it’s all going to be fine, and then Wardo, his Wardo, who helped him, who loved him, Wardo asks Mark the question.

“How do you do this thing where you manage to get all girls to hate us? Why do I let you?” Like it’s Mark’s fault that Wardo doesn’t like the girls he dates. Like it was Mark’s idea to go out with girls, to have Wardo go out with girls. Like it wasn’t something that Mark did to impress Wardo so much that he would just be with Mark, with Mark, and not some stupid airhead he met at AEPi. Mark doesn’t say anything, yet. Just pinches his lips together and says “Yeah, I know,” because he does. He does know why Eduardo needs the girls, needs the cover, but can’t bring himself to tell Wardo to just fuck it, fuck right off and stop.

Wardo keeps poking at the problem: “You just can’t do that.” And Mark responds, “Wardo. I know.” Because he can’t have this conversation right now, not here, not in public. It would hurt Wardo. Mark can’t reply that he doesn’t want girls to like them. He wants girls to go the hell away and just let him be with Eduardo, but he can’t so he shakes it off, shakes Wardo’s implicit rejection. Wardo says he needs to date a girl, but he also needs to be around Mark. He needs them both, one for his father, and one for him, and Mark just wishes he’d give the first one up already. Still. He knows.

They go back to Mark’s dorm. Eduardo goes in first, grabs a beer from the fridge, and stretches out on Mark’s bed. Mark checks, and Dustin and Chris are gone. He breathes a sigh of relief, and then rounds on Wardo, stretched out, and loose, and sexy in all black.

“You asshole,” he spits. “don’t you know how hard this is for me? Don’t you know that I can’t stand the idea of being with anyone else? That I get actually, physically nauseated when I think about you with someone else?”

“Hey, Mark, what, calm…” Eduardo starts, defensively.

“No, I will not calm down, you selfish son of a bitch! You wanted this, wanted to go out with girls, and sneak around. You and your stupid fucking father and your stupid fucking family business. Don’t you think that my family cares? Don’t you think I know how hard it is for you? I see you. I see how you speak to your father. And I see how you look at me, and I see that you love me. I know that I’m sometimes stupid about emotions, and how people think about me, but you… you I see. You I understand, and I don’t understand why you are doing this to me?”

“HEY! That is not fair. You have no idea what this means to my father…”

“Sure I do,” Mark interrupts.

“I’m not finished, Mark,” Eduardo spits, furious. “You have no idea what this means to me, or my father, or my family. Do you understand what it took for my father to call me? Do you understand that this, this thing that I want more than anything else, being with you, do you understand that it is killing me, not to be able to tell my father, and to have to live with the knowledge that the two most important people in my life can never meet, for fear that he won’t like you even half as much as I like you, just because I love you? Do you understand that? NO. You have no idea. You absolute moron.”

“Well, I think this whole fake dating thing is bullshit,” Mark retorts, lamely. He’s hurt, and he can’t even be that angry, because he knows Wardo is sort of right, even if it hurts, and it’s stupid, and painful for everyone.

Wardo stands up, and shakes his head. “I can’t stay here Mark. I have homework. Some of us have to work to fit into the world, you know. You can just create your own little fantasy life, and no one will judge you or care, because you made it. I can’t do that, Mark. I have to fit.” He puts his hands on his head, and digs his palms into his eyes. “I’m sorry Mark. “

Mark goes over to Wardo, and wraps his arms around his chest, and holds Wardo’s back against his chest. He feels that Wardo is breathing fast, and irregular, but is slowing down, evening out as Mark holds him. Wardo leans his head back, to rest on Mark’s head, his face pressed into Mark’s curls.

Mark presses his lips against Wardo’s neck, kissing the smooth thin skin there. He feels Wardo breathe in and out deeply, coming quicker, as Mark’s kisses become more intense. Mark scrapes his teeth on wardo’s throat and bites his ear and Wardo melts.

“Mark,” he sighs, and he turns around. “I’m sorry Mark,” he says, and kisses him hard, deep, so that Mark loses his breath, and his hands come up Wardo’s back to pull his head closer. They stumble back towards the bed, and Mark pushes Wardo down. Mark pulls of his shirt and straddles Wardo’s hips, unbuttoning his shirt.

“so many fucking buttons,” he breathes against Wardo’s neck, as Wardo’s long hands wrap themselves around Mark’s hips, showing Mark just how turned on he is. Finally, the shirt comes off, and Mark whips it behind him with wild abandon, the pile of discarded clothing growing larger. He pushes Wardo back, and presses his arms above his head, so that Wardo is pinned against the bed, writhing and panting. His hands run down Eduardo’s body, and his skin breaks out into goosebumps, and Wardo breathes “Mark,” loudly into his ear. 

Mark kisses his way down Wardo’s body, nipping at his neck, and breathing in his muscled shoulder, and sucking lightly at Mark’s nipples.. Mark runs his nose along the bronzed grooves of Wardo’s abdomen and inhales his scent, like pepper and chlorine, and kisses his way along the bony curve of Wardo’s hips, as Wardo moans because it tickles, and FUCK, it feels so good. 

Mark kisses Wardo’s hard, muscled stomach, as he unbuttons Eduardo’s pants, and who ever decided button fly was a good call? He pulls them down and Wardo lifts his hips to help, and then his pants are off, and it’s just Eduardo, his Wardo on the bed, lean bronze muscle and straining hard cock and Mark’s breath hitches uncomfortably. He kneels between Wardo’s legs and nuzzles his dick, runs his nose under it, along the seam that his sister’s magazines said was an intense place. He places a kiss on the tip, on the head, before taking it into his mouth. 

Mark loves Wardo, loves sucking his dick, but he’s lazy, so wraps a hand around the base and sucks, hollowing out his cheeks and running his tongue along the length of it. He loves the sounds Wardo is making, moaning, whispering Mark’s name, and fuck and yes and oh, god. Mark loves this, and loves how Wardo has threaded his fingers through Mark’s curls and how his hips are straining not to move, and how a sheen of sweat is forming on Eduardo’s skin.

Mark opens his eyes and looks up at Wardo’s face, just as Wardo looks back at him, and he loves it when Wardo groans, and his back arches, and his head throws back and he shouts Mark! Mark pulls off and kisses his way back up Wardo’s body. “Yes, Wardo?” he asks, teasing, sucking on his ear, and feeling Wardo’s body tense and writhe beneath him.

“Mark. Want. Want you, Mark. Want to fuck you. Mark,” Wardo pants, as he reaches into the drawer for lube and a condom. He rolls the condom on himself, wincing at the pressure, the sensation of touching himself. He flips Mark onto his back, taking charge. He pours lube onto his fingers, and slowly presses one into Mark, who moans and pushes down. 

He loves this, loves the pressure, and being filled. Wardo pushes the next finger in, and scissors them, stretching him, and it’s so intense. Wardo curls his fingers, where he knows it will feel good, and it does, the pressure, the sensation lifts Mark’s hips and makes his toes curl and his eyes roll back. Wardo presses one more finger in, and spreads him more, and Mark’s brain blanks out briefly, it feels so good, and his hands grip the sheets, and he begs, “fuck me, Wardo. Fuck me.” Wardo pours more lube onto his hands, and slicks Mark’s ass a little more, before rubbing the rest on his dick. He presses a pillow beneath Mark’s hips and pushes himself in, slowly.

Mark hates to admit it, even to himself, but he loves this. He loves the stretch, and he loves being filled, and he loves Wardo grabbing his hips and his legs thrown up over Wardo’s shoulders as Wardo takes him. He loves when Eduardo fucks him. Wardo slides in, and out, and in again and it’s so hot, and it feels so good. Wardo’s dick is angled perfectly that it hits Mark’s prostate every time, and it feels so good his presses down for more, more. 

Wardo kisses Mark’s leg, and folds him nearly in half to kiss his chest, his neck, pressing into him more and more, and it hurts, but it feels so good. Wardo reaches between them to stroke Mark’s cock and it’s so intense that Mark comes suddenly over his chest, his back arching and his ass clenching so that Eduardo comes suddenly too. They collapse together, panting, and it’s sticky, and more than a little gross, but also hot, and they’re together, and it’s good.

“You fit here, Wardo. You fit with me.” Wardo nods, sleepily, and snuggles against Mark’s body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love a beta, so if you're interested, message me!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I think it's a love story." Mark and Eduardo had a casual sex relationship/were kind of dating while Mark was at Harvard. Wardo's father is an asshole and NOT PLEASED that Wardo is having hot sexy times with a man. He insists they break up and Wardo at least TRY with a woman. Mark is not pleased, because he loves Wardo, but he'll try. This fic imagines what wasn't said, the scenes that didn't make it into the story.

Sometime later, they wake up, and shower, and Wardo kisses him, and sucks him off, and it’s fantastic. Then Wardo says, “this doesn’t change anything, Mark,” and he leaves. Mark shuts down. He has nothing to do but code. He codes for 32 hours, and then goes to his CS 121 class, Introduction to Formal Systems and Computation, which he could teach in his sleep (and does). 

This girl, who he recognizes as someone Wardo dated for a month slips him a note that says “u Dick.” Letting aside the fact that she can’t spell and is horribly unimaginative in her wording, he can’t believe this bitch, this girl who Wardo pretended to date instead of him, has the nerve to give him the time of day, let alone tell him he’s a dick, because, what? Because he insulted her on FaceMash? He is sleeping with her boyfriend, or rather, that she was nothing, nothing but a cover for Wardo, Wardo’s beard, his mistake.

Mark can’t take it, can’t take sitting in the same room as someone else who has touched Eduardo, and he leaves, mouthing off to the professor, and showing up everyone in class. He jogs out the door, and then gets cornered by not one, but two beautiful tall blonde men. 

Mark loves Eduardo, and is generally more drawn to personality and brains than looks, but these boys are fucking beautiful. They’re tall, and muscled, and have these aristocratic jaws… It’s everything Mark can do not to gape openly. They say they row crew, and he has a vague memory of a conversation with Erica Albright, and watching boys row at Exeter when he was teaching himself C++ his freshmen year of high school. He thinks he’s dreaming when they ask him if he’s got a minute. Maybe Mark’s imagining it, but he thinks he sees the one in front, the one who shakes his hand, Cameron, he thinks he sees him do a once over. 

He’s got a minute. 

Mark is sort of led, sort of follows tripping over himself, to the Porcellian clubhouse. Tyler, almost benevolently, explains that they can’t take him past the bike room, and asks if Mark understands. Mark says sure, because what else is he supposed to say? He’s not allowed to be in any of the things he wants. And here’s the thing. Final clubs. It’s all a giant metaphor, really, because what Mark wants is a relationship, someone to love him, and he can’t seem to get at it. 

It’s something they used to joke about, privately, calling what Mark and Wardo had together a final club, because it was just them, and it was special. And Mark goes into the Porcellian with these perfect men, who are golden, and shiny, and they seem to glow with money and skill. And he doesn’t go into the club, he’s not dating them, but he gets his foot in the door. 

Turns out, after they pitch their idiotic dating site, and Tyler and Divya have class, marketing, or finance, something not there, Cameron did check him out. Cameron catches Mark by the hoodie sleeve, and asks “where are you going?” and “Come here,” and “oh. Yes. Yes.” Mark wants. Mark wants Wardo, but he’s 19 years old, he’ll take what he can get, and for the moment, he can’t get Wardo. 

***

He walks to the AEPi party from Cameron’s dorm room, and he feels… used. Dirty. Like he’s betrayed Wardo, which is silly, because it isn’t as if Wardo and Mark were official, or exclusive, or really even seeing each other at all. But still. Suddenly Mark knows why everything has been a blur, and he knows he needs to fix everything, and rounding that corner from Cameron’s suddenly the idea comes to him.

Mark finally gets to the party, and there are Wardo and Dustin, looking at a group of objectively pretty Asian girls wearing tiny dresses which are stupid in this weather. Wardo and Dustin talk about how Jewish guys and Asian girls are meant to be, and Mark fights the urge to punch everyone. Mark also wonders how Wardo can make even a Hawaiian shirt appealing.

Wardo loves the idea, agrees to put up the money. It’s a solid idea, a good plan, and Mark can tell that Wardo is impressed, but he still goes back into the party. Mark doesn’t go, that loop of Niagara Falls really was offensive, but he looks in the window, and sees Wardo talking up Amy Matsumura. Mark runs home, to wash Cameron Winklevoss off his skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the third chapter (but you knew that, because you can read) and the last one I've written, although I need to get Mark to California. But I gotta write the coding... but I gotta get Mark to meet Sean. Mer. 
> 
>  
> 
> As always, beta help would be much appreciated.


End file.
